


a gradual increase in warmth

by ataxophilia



Category: Firefly, Serenity (2005)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Series, The start of something beautiful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:00:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1348354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ataxophilia/pseuds/ataxophilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The conversation, though short, marks a turning point in their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a gradual increase in warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, as per usual.

Zoe opens up in increments. 

It frustrates Wash to no end. She is the hardest person to read that he’s ever met, all closed-off eyes and carefully-blank faces. The only emotion she ever allows to bleed through is annoyance at her crewmates, and even then Wash gets the distinct feeling that her expression is a construction. 

The apparent apathy jars uncomfortably with Wash’s openness - in fact, the rare flashes of genuine irritation that Wash catches on Zoe’s face usually follow one of his outbursts - and the contrast leaves a stilted tension between them. As has been his natural defense against such awkwardness since he was old enough to recognise it, Wash chatters amicably and ignores the lack of response he gets, filling the stretches that Zoe spends observing him flying with inane facts about himself, his childhood, and the piloting that he loves so dearly.

It’s in the middle of one such babble that Zoe says, without warning, “Stars were the first beautiful thing I ever saw.” 

Wash stops mid-sentence, hands pausing briefly over his control before continuing to where they’re meant to be. Once the course is steady and Wash’s attention can be spared, he spins his chair to give Zoe a searching look.

She doesn’t look any less impassive than normal. The only difference is a slightly raised chin, like she’s daring him to comment. 

"Never saw the stars, growing up," he replies, pulling a face. Zoe doesn’t so much as blink, so he forges on. "Too much pollution. Could hardly see the sun, let alone the night sky." He pauses, tilts his head to one side, and grins widely. "Turned the prettiest shades of red at sunset, though. Made the whole sky look like it was on fire. That was mine," he clarifies. "First beautiful thing I ever saw. Sunset over the fields back home."

There’s a beat of silence, Wash unsure whether to continue the conversation on his own or to pretend it never happened, and then Zoe clears her throat. “That why you got into flying?”

Wash’s face splits into a beam, and he ducks his head, shrugging. “Mostly. I figured, if the sky was so pretty for those couple of minutes, what must it be like the rest of the time?” He spreads his fingers up towards the top of the cockpit. “I just wanted to see past the smog, y’know? To know what the rest of the ‘verse looked like.”

Zoe’s gaze flickers between Wash’s fingers and the controls behind him, only coming to rest on his face when she asks, “Was it worth it?”

"Piloting?" Wash blinks, then bursts out laughing. "Of course! Never been happier in my life than the first time I flew a ship for real. I wouldn’t take it back for the world."

Her eyes linger a moment longer, and then she nods tersely and leaves the cockpit. Wash stares after her, smile fading away from his face, before shrugging again and turning back to his controls. 

The conversation, though short, marks a turning point in their relationship; three days later, when Zoe steps into the cockpit for her usual observation, she’s carrying two flasks of coffee. 

Wash accepts the drink with a grateful smile. The coffee on the ship isn’t fantastic, but it’s better than some of the slop Wash has tasted over the years, and it’s got enough enhancers in it to keep Wash alert until he can switch to auto. 

His gratitude lasts all of two seconds, the time it takes him to take a mouthful and then spit it back out. He swears long and loud, and then turns to Zoe, who’s watching with her usual blank face, making it impossible to tell if she’s amused or offended. “How much sweetener did you put in this?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

Zoe’s face cracks into a small, sheepish frown. Wash is so distracted by seeing an actual expression of emotion on her face that he almost doesn’t notice the way she reaches forward to take the cup back. 

"Hey, no, I’m sorry," he says hurriedly, pulling the flask out of her reach so she can’t grab it. "I didn’t mean to- I just wasn’t expecting it, is all. I’m not- being rude."

It’s pretty lame, as apologies go, but it’s enough to make Zoe freeze slightly, her frown deepening. “No,” she says, swallows, and shakes her head, bringing her arm back to her chest. “No, I’m. Uh, I’m sorry.” Wash blinks, confused, and her frown goes defensive. “It’s how I take my coffee. With the, uh.” She nods to his flask, “The sweeteners. Been a while since I’ve made a drink for anyone else. I’d forgotten that not everyone likes it like I do.”

"Oh!" Understanding dawns on Wash. The frown hadn’t been directed at him. "Oh, hey, it’s not a problem. I take mine sweet, just not normally, uh, this sweet."

Zoe’s hand twitches by her hip, and she coughs quietly. “You don’t have to drink it,” she says. One finger taps against her thigh, and Wash realises he’s seeing a nervous Zoe. 

It’s actually kind of endearing. Determined not to make this situation any worse, Wash swigs another mouthful, managing to swallow it this time. “Ain’t so bad,” he says, grinning sharply. It’s not quite a lie; the drink is still far sweeter than he’d usually like, but it’s drinkable. He’s still moved by the gesture. “I’ve had worse,” he continues, launching into a story about the coffee he’d had to cope with on one particularly awful ship. 

Zoe relaxes a little more with each broad gesture and healthy swallow he takes of his drink, until she’s almost smiling, hiding the expression behind her flask.

The next day she arrives earlier than usual, and the coffee she hands Wash is much closer to perfect, if a little on the sweet side still, and she stays to listen to Wash’s stories for over an hour longer than she normally does.


End file.
